Sunday 24th August 2025
Blog Page 491

“Superstition ain’t the way” – did Stevie Wonder get it right?

Isobel Merriman
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“Superstition ain’t the way” – did Stevie Wonder get it right?

On my left wrist sits a tiny silver star on a chain. On my right hand, a ring my mother was given by her first serious boyfriend, to replace the one given to me by mine, after we broke up last November.  Around my neck rests a blue topaz crystal on a vintage chain.  

It’s my superstitious nature that makes all these things meaningful to me. The bracelet is a permanent replacement for a lucky charm that I wore from my mock A-Levels to Results Day, by which point both my nerves and the string bracelet were hanging on by a thread. The blue topaz is a healing crystal, meant to inspire creativity, making it the perfect crystal for writer’s block and arguably the reason this article met its deadline. I’ve always found these little charms to be a source of comfort and reassurance, but it’s hard not to consider the often insidious nature of superstition. Whilst there’s nothing wrong with some meaningful jewellery or the odd ritual, is it dangerous for us to put too much faith into the unknown? 

We all have our quirky superstitions, from lucky numbers to little rhymes about pennies – harmless fun that raises our spirits, or just things we grew up with. I still find myself looking out for pairs of magpies, sidestepping ladders and avoiding cracks in the pavement. I’ve always loved the idea that there are small signs that the universe really is on our side. Not only do silly superstitions from my childhood take me back to a more optimistic time, they can have other advantages too – if someone you fancy sneezes twice in front of you, you can inform them that you’re cosmically obligated to give them a peck. (“Once a wish, Twice a kiss.”) 

It can be comforting to see signs that the moves we’re making are the right ones, to believe that wishes can come true and that the universe has a master plan for us. Especially now, putting your faith in the cosmos and turning to the oracles for answers is more tempting than ever. What I’m suggesting therefore isn’t a detachment from your spirituality, but an avoidance of the more insidious elements of ‘cosmic faith’.

For example, I have very little time for companies such as Paltrow’s ‘Goop’, which deliberately generate anxieties and promote expensive pseudo-solutions. After a quick peruse of the ‘cosmic health’ section of Goop, I was slightly horrified to see that both her ‘Chill Child Calming Mist’ and her ‘Psychic Vampire Repellent Mist’ had completely sold out after retailing for £27 each – a bizarre side-effect of the circumstances we currently find ourselves in. ‘Calming Mist’, a mixture of rose water and essential oils like lavender and chamomile, has been referred to as “a mix between a humidifier and a riot cannon” by comedian Richard Ayoade, so it’s not hard to see how it might appeal to a home-schooling parent during a global pandemic. But whilst the benefits of aromatherapy are scientifically proven, most brands with similar products retail for about half the price as they don’t claim to possess the paranormal powers Goop peddles. 

What makes Goop so insidious is what it’s really selling:  a superstitious superciliousness (try saying that quickly) – a cosmic superiority that suggests benefits above and beyond the product’s scientific properties. This is a dangerously enticing idea and a risky way to search for reassurance as it often comes at the cost of rationality and faith in medical science. The danger of this is that it introduces new anxieties, such as the fear of psychic attack and emotional harm, and then suggests that this alternative cause for unhappiness must be solved by alternative (and expensive) means. Being emotionally exhausted, stressed or drained at points in our life is normal and shouldn’t be catastrophised into a ‘psychic attack’ as an exploitative marketing ploy. Creating an incorporeal enemy to blame these emotions on deters from scientific solutions to struggling mental health that have their basis in psychological study rather than psychic intuition and for which there are plenty of free resources! Meditation that aims to alleviate anxiety can still be supported with the burning of calming essential oils or a focus on healing crystals, but oils and crystals alone can’t singlehandedly solve the problem and it’s dangerous to suggest that they can. 

Another response to the uncertainty that surrounds the coming days, weeks and months has been a determination to find the answers in oracles, crystal balls and tarot card packs. Kim Kardashian, (an undoubtedly reliable and well-informed source) recently shared an extract from the 2008 book ‘End of Days’ by the psychic Sylvia Browne, in which she predicted that a “severe pneumonia-like illness” would spread across the globe this year. Browne was a convicted fraud, with a string of failed prophecies (according to Browne we should also all have robots by now) and yet after this post went viral her book once again became a bestseller. Others have been citing Nostradamus and his warnings of plague in his book ‘Les Propheties’, however his predictions are penned in vague terms and are often creatively interpreted by those searching for answers. 

When these resources fail to provide answers, some even turn to contemporary energy healers and fortune tellers for guidance and comfort, trusting their extortionate prices to be an indication of their success. The average ‘energy healer’ costs £200 an hour and their new remote healing services in response to social distancing measures seem particularly sketchy. After a brief phone call about your particular concern one healer will hang up and then call afterwards to discuss the ‘energy transmission’ she’s just supposedly performed. I can’t help but imagine her hanging up the phone, making a cup of tea and curling up with the telly on before calling again, but maybe I’m just a cynic. Meanwhile, my nearest psychic centre is currently offering clairvoyant telephone readings for £80 an hour, with the website stating that “our psychics are ready to provide validation about your life.” And they probably will provide at least superficial validation, but at a price. 

They do this through the use of ‘Barnum statements’, general characterisations attributed to an individual that could apply to almost anyone. Similarly to how when we read a horoscope we actively seek a correspondence between what it says about our star sign and our perception of our own personality, this is how psychics convince you they have paranormal powers. They prey on vulnerable people using this effect and whilst their clients may leave feeling validated, it’s only a temporary fix. Meaningful validation ultimately comes from within, and not every question in life can be answered. Psychic predictions of the future may make us feel more prepared, but ultimately they are an empty comfort. Part of coping in this current climate is learning to accept uncertainty and embrace it. 

But I’m still going to read my Cosmopolitan horoscope once a month. Maybe when I do eventually meet that ‘tall, handsome stranger’ I’m told I’m due it’ll be nothing more than my own confirmation bias, but otherwise I might have missed him. I also refuse to part with my lucky charms and, if you sneeze twice in front of me, watch out. There’s nothing wrong with a little superstition, as long as it’s a positive force in your life and you know that, ultimately, only you can decide your fate. 

Old Faith, New Tricks: Catholicism in the time of Lockdown

Tom W. McGrath
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Old Faith, New Tricks: Catholicism in the time of Lockdown

Catholic Masses with congregations are suspended, Holy Water has been removed from church entrances, the flock has fallen sick and been scattered. But the Church shows its resilience; all is not lost. Catholic communities all over the world have responded to the Covid-19 crisis by finding new ways to practise their old faith. But how can the faithful discover new meaning in these difficult times?

Parishes now meet for a virtual Mass. Oxford’s own Blackfriars, for instance, are live-streaming Sunday Mass at 9.30 on YouTube. Pope Francis has been delivering powerful sermons livestreamed across the world. In his Easter Address, the Pontiff memorably underscored the need for unity and action: ‘Indifference, self-centredness, division and forgetfulness are not words we want to hear at this time. We want to ban these words forever!’ (we’re assuming this is not to be taken literally).

The Pope also gave his Extraordinary Blessing ‘Urbi et Orbi’ – ‘To the City and the World’, which is normally reserved for Christmas and Easter. In this Blessing he again emphasised that believers should take an active response to the crisis: ‘it is not the time of [God’s] judgement, but of our judgement: a time to choose what matters and what passes away … It is a time to get our lives back on track with regard to you, Lord, and to others.’ 

So, the faithful must think and act with new clarity in the midst of turmoil. Many are. They gather in their homes to watch the Mass from afar. Parishes have reported an increase in the number of people attending (virtual) Mass, with some viewers returning to Mass after long absences. In Ireland, where religious divisions run deep, Catholics and Protestants prayed together, virtually, on Palm Sunday. Pax Christi, the international Catholic movement for peace, held an online prayer service in solidarity with Extinction Rebellion Faith Communities, including prayers for those affected by the virus. 

Believers have also been urged to give charity. Last month the Bishops’ Conference suggested in their letter to Catholics in England and Wales that they should be ‘attentive to the needs of our neighbour, especially the elderly and vulnerable; contributing to our local food banks; volunteering for charitable initiatives and organisations; simply keeping in touch by all the means open to us’. Far from shying away, this uncertain time is the chance for the Church to prove and reinvent itself. 

In this, it has many advantages. The Church is an entity which in some ways is custom-built for helping its followers overcome difficult times. Christianity’s strong track record of resilience in crisis is a trait which comes from the very nature of its foundations. This history begins with the Hebrew Bible, and its account of ancient Israel’s endurance of mishap and toil, from Assyrian invasion to exile in Babylon, without losing sight of its Covenant and God’s salvific purpose. Centuries later, Christianity was born into a world of persecution in the Roman Empire. It grew, initially against a backdrop of torture and execution by emperors, notably Nero and Decius. Thus began a tradition of martyrdom, which infused into Christianity a spirit of resilience in dealing with oppressors and times of struggle.

Today, one may look to the narratives of the New Testament which mirror in some way our present, self-isolated living, for guidance or inspiration in lockdown. One may remember the story of Peter, sitting, isolated and alone, in Herod’s prison, who kept praying for rescue (which arrived in the form of an angel). One may think of the Apostles, hiding in the Upper Room after the death of their leader. They must have faced trials similar to those which we face, which have been brought on by our (sometimes-fearful) social distancing and self-isolation. The Apostles could not leave their room, and they had no idea what the future held for them. The life of Christ is also, of course, a case of perseverance and courage in the face of uncertainty, danger and anxiety. This fact has influenced the whole Christian tradition. Important theories of salvation, like that of St. Augustine, centre on the hardship faced by Christ as the active ingredient which brought about salvation. Contemporary scholars now tend to focus on Christ’s participation in human suffering, emphasising Paul’s metaphors of Christ as sacrificial victim, as when Paul wrote that ‘our paschal lamb, Christ, has been sacrificed’ (1 Corinthians 5:7). Through his suffering, it is said that Christ demonstrates the failure of violence. The Christian, then, does not have to look far for exemplars of great resolve in times of difficulty. 

Christianity is in the business of making sense of hardship. The Church gives its followers a framework for times of crisis. In addition to injunctions to give charity, Christianity offers stability and certainty, which are both at a premium in lockdown. It urges a rule of compassion towards others in the community, encouraging gentle persuasion of others that they should follow rules for the general good, rather than the harmful shaming which has been witnessed from some quarters. It encourages frequent ritual and practice, such as routines of prayer or charity, which can give structure to one’s day in the absence of going to work. There are three particularly important traditions of relevance here: monasticism, silence, and prayer.

First, one may look to the tradition of monasticism for inspiration, as the life of the self-isolator is not so very different from that of a follower of a monastic rule. We, like them, must plan our days in an enclosed environment, deciding at what times to do this and that in order to feel motivated, productive and, for the believer, in communion with God. Self-isolation is not monastic in the mould of the communitarian Benedictines, but in that of the solitary lifestyle of the Carthusians or Trappists, enclosed off from the outside world. Monks live without frivolous and non-essential items (many without any private possessions), just as many of us will likewise have to do without non-essential items for the time being. 

Secondly, the Catholic tradition of silence is of interest. Silence is a spiritual necessity – or so say many Catholic spiritual writers. In monasteries, conversation is limited to the necessities, to prevent idle talk and help one in speaking with God. Although alien to many, this thought is a fruitful one, easily applicable to the days spent in lockdown. Regardless of one’s faith, withdrawing, even in part, from the noise of the 24-hour news cycle can give one space to contemplate and be restored. And perhaps believers can view less conversation among each other as an incentive for more conversation with God? Chapter 6 of the Rule of St. Benedict emphasises the need for silence for listening to God when it suggests to its disciples: ‘since the spirit of silence is so important, permission to speak should rarely be granted even to perfect disciples, even though it be for good, holy edifying conversation’, and again: ‘the disciple’s part is to be silent and to listen’ (trans. Leonard J. Doyle, Order of St. Benedict: archive.osb.org). This reflects Romans 10:17: ‘So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ’, among many other Scriptural passages. Silence is the means to listening to oneself and to God, and lockdown presents the opportunity for this.  

Lastly, the believer may pray for those who suffer from the virus itself, and for those who care for them, (in addition, of course, to giving charity). Prayer is as old as the Judeo-Christian tradition itself. It is used throughout the Old and New Testaments, among other things to cry out to God, as the ancient Israelites cried out to God over their enslavement in Exodus 2:32; to petition, as Paul recommends in Ephesians 6:18; and to intercede, as in 2 Corinthians 1:11. Petition, asking God for things, is perhaps what people think of first about prayer. When Christ gave the Church the Lord’s Prayer, he included this element in ‘Give us this day, our daily bread’ – which is a request for nourishment, and all entailed in this, like strength, health, worldly opportunity and so on. But petition is not all. The Lord’s Prayer itself includes these other aspects too: meditation, praise of the Father, a request for forgiveness, reflection on the coming Kingdom, and a request for strength. Prayer is said to effect a change in the one praying – helping the believer grow in love and confidence, and find courage within themselves. Bestowed with the gifts of prayer, perhaps the believer will be able to contribute to bringing about positive changes in the world. Perhaps the believer may pray for the courage and strength to face the challenges of their time – like those in the Christian story before them. This is affirmed in the Church’s official teaching, in which is quoted St. Thérèse of Lisieux’s insightful description: ‘For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy’. This last ‘embracing both trial and joy’ resonates in times like this – prayer is for good times and bad. 

What about those on the peripheries of the Church – those who do not normally have much by way of religious faith but who may turn towards religion in times of crisis? The aim of the Church should be to encourage them to engage with these three relevant traditions of monasticism, silence and prayer. It would be interesting to know how many of the new attendees at online masses which parishes are reporting are those who had joined in just to see what it was like – to see if a religious perspective could help them cope with difficult times. It would not be surprising if many were. The effect of the present crisis on Christianity will come down to whether or not people on the peripheries of the faith have been inspired to return to the fold, and whether the weeks-on-end without any physical church attendance will mean a downturn in attendance once the pews are re-filled.

Christianity has difficulties it has to face. But making sense of times of crisis like this is something for which it is well suited. Christian faith and practice can help make sense of events like this. As long as Christians make good use of their own tradition’s spiritual and practical resources, there is no reason why it cannot find new strength in a dark time. 

Image credit: https://pixabay.com/fr/illustrations/tous-les-saints-christian-sainte-2887463/

SATIRE: How to feel rich during quarantine

Emeliva Howawante
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SATIRE: How to feel rich during quarantine

The last few weeks has been an ordeal for many of us – there is little refuge from the constant barrage of bad news. However, we must try to create a semblance of normality whenever we can, which for me, Emeliva Howawante, has meant getting back to feeling rich.

It has been quite a trial. I cannot stop at Harrods for an amuse-bouche between meetings anymore, and shopping sprees at Changi airport are of course out of the question. All I have left are the happy hours in the queue outside Waitrose. From there I can see the world, and the world can see me – through the clear plastic bodysuit I wear at all times. It keeps both my health, and my birkin, safe from infection. As does my aerosol disinfectant that I have mixed with pepper spray. You never can be too careful with the hooligans.

I was half-way into the store the other day when I remembered an encounter I had with the celebrated ceramicist Jemima Gerriatric, who I met ten years ago at a Cartier event in Paris. What she said to me I will never forget: “The only way out of rock bottom Emeliva is to start collecting Picasso.” This is my battle cry, and I have taken it upon myself to discover and share with you ways that we can all achieve that elusive ‘I-really-do-own-an-island’ feeling, without leaving the safety of our own homes.

For starters, the recent drop in the stock market should be considered a fantastic opportunity. My husband reminded me that since 2008 there has not been a riper time for investment. So, why not while away a few hours cashing in some savings to the FTSE 100. The best part of it is that even if the market price drops, there is always more to put more in! If you invest for the long term (like myself) then you can spend the next few years watching it appreciate and thinking of all the lovely things you can buy with your earnings.

Nothing has brought me more joy in this horrible time than tapping the buttons on my bank app and looking up stock market trends. It’s so fun, like grown-up Candy Crush! I have decided that this could be considered a pastime in itself and, like all pastimes, it deserves a bit of luxurious elevation. After several weeks of virtual admiration I can announce that I have purchased an extravagant Hermès chaise longue with dark red leather upholstery and guilt dragon feet which I have informed my family is to be used exclusively for my own financial exploits. No greasy handprints on this fine beauty.

Last week was a flurry of interior design for me – a vase here, a buddha statue there, though what’s really transformed the entire mood of the conservatory has been the installation of a little Japanese sand pit in the corner. Every evening after watching the news I go to my zen room, pick up the delicate wooden rake and dust it through the sand, creating such calming horizontal lines that it takes all the worry away. It needs to fit the colour scheme of the room of course, so I have ordered 10 kg of black Tahitian sand from my dear hotelier friend – Ivan con Feshon-Tumake.

Digital meetings are of the utmost importance. I spend a good half-hour everyday styling my backdrop. A still-life tableau of grapes and oranges provides a roman resplendence to my drawing room. It has given me an excellent excuse to whip out the Louis XIV candlesticks that I nabbed at Christie’s last autumn.

The virtual experience has allowed me to see the intimate parts of my colleague’s houses like never before, what a treat! I like to rate their rooms on a scale from squalor to splendor. I even discovered that one of my peers has the most outrageous wallpaper – it depicts nude women doing various things with pineapples… Whoever would have thought that demure Kenneth would have such scandalous taste?

The fantastic article from FT’s lifestyle contributor Luke Edward Hall provided some excellent inspiration; he suggested sneaking a ‘plaster cast of a classical head’ into the frame of your zoom meeting. But I ask the critical question – is that enough? Last night I embraced my natural flamboyance and spent an hour styling a centrepiece for my morning Skype call. I have placed my husband’s terracotta bust of Margaret Thatcher directly in front of my iMac webcam, and tomorrow I intend to sit behind it doing my best impression of the late baroness. I hope it will surprise and delight them to see her brought back to life! You can get bronze busts of all sorts of prolific politicians – Stalin, Pol Pot, Castro, and I intend on purchasing a few and doing a sort of Punch and Judy show with them. Perhaps I’ll reenact the battle of Trafalgar, or JFK’s assassination.

There you are my darlings! I hope this has inspired you to take up your own ‘creative-wealth projects’ as I’m calling them. Don’t let the Lockdown get you down and remember that wherever you are in the world you must treat yourself to the very best.

Love, Emeliva xx

Image via jankuss on Photobay

The era of digital drama

Dot Foster
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The era of digital drama

When you imagine ‘going to the theatre’, an image of you in your dressing gown, sitting on the sofa and eating popcorn probably doesn’t come to mind. When I watched the NT Live recording of One Man, Two Guvnors, it was an experience of theatre that fought with these expectations: free, easily accessible online and available globally for anyone to watch. In an age of Covid-19 with our communities affected at every level and the world facing an unprecedented amount of human loss, the arts have become essential. They allow us to creatively immerse ourselves, escaping momentarily from the challenges of everyday life: but above all, to do this knowingly, together. In an interview for The Stage, the NT’s executive director Lisa Burger said the new NT live screenings were intended to “lift the spirits, bring people together and become something to talk about”. Chris Whitty, the government’s Chief Medical Officer, said that he expected society to cope with the coronavirus with “extraordinary outbreaks of altruism”. It would be fair to say that providing world-class theatre for free is a significant gesture of goodwill, especially as venues for an NT Live screening charge roughly double the price of a normal cinema ticket.

Britain’s National Theatre Live, or NT Live, is an initiative established just over ten years ago that, on its most basic level, broadcasts live theatre productions directly to cinemas across the world. Unlike earlier forms of theatre recording, it represents an attempt to recreate the typical experience of seeing a play performed, with camera angles following the drama live as it plays out. According to a 2011 report by the National Endowment for Science, Technology and the Arts (NESTA), “until NT Live…it was felt that theatre could never benefit from the transition [of theatre to film], that acting for the stage and screen were different disciplines, and that previous examples of live recordings had been cold and static”. According to NESTA’s survey, this was not the case; “eighty-four per cent of NT Live cinema audiences ‘felt real excitement’ because they knew that the performance they were watching was taking place live that evening.” The popularity of NT Live, and other initiatives like it such as The Met: Live in HD, is not unique, nor only due to the current crisis. Many such schemes are well established and globally successful. According to The Stage, the streaming audience for the coronavirus broadcast of One Man, Two Guvnors was 209,000 people, four times the initial cinema audience for the first-ever NT Live screening of Helen Mirren as Phèdre. But the fundamental difference now is that there is no longer ‘liveness’ in watching these productions; NT Live has, for the first time, made the decision to make some of their previously closely-guarded recordings accessible, releasing videos of productions every Thursday at 7pm BST for the next two months.

These recordings – distributed via Youtube – are prefaced by the statement “theatres around the world are closed and facing a devastating impact from coronavirus. Theatre and the arts are a positive force for our community in turbulent times. As you enjoy this recorded performance, please consider a donation to support this great industry.” This made me wonder whether such large – national – theatres have any kind of moral duty to make such recordings of shows accessible, or even free. What’s lovely about student theatre is that in a world of comp tickets, low-budget costumes, and learning lines at the last minute, productions usually have less at stake; those involved are not relying on the play as their sole source of income. But being a professional in the theatre industry, whether an actor, stage manager, costume designer, or any of the other workers involved in a production, inevitably comes with managing unstable earnings. For audiences, it is often also the financial difficulty that prevents theatre from becoming a more pervasive cultural presence. With online streaming services rising in commercial power, with content instantly available and at affordable prices, how can the mass cultural value of theatre compete? Netflix charges a minimum of £5.99 per month for access to “unlimited films, TV programmes and more”. In comparison, to watch a show at the National Theatre audience members pay between £15 to £70 a ticket, depending on the quality of the seats. When NT Live first started broadcasting productions, the primary focus was expanding financial accessibility. According to the NESTA report, “NT Live appears to have drawn in larger lower-income audiences than those at the theatre…A quarter of the [NT Live] cinema audience earned under £20,000 per year’. Twice as many people earning over £50,000 per year saw shows in the theatre rather than via NT Live. More than a decade later, it seems that many of the aims of NT Live remain the same in a world affected by coronavirus. Alice King-Farlow, director of learning at the NT, said that “given the unprecedented challenges we are all currently facing across the globe, we want to ensure that pupils, teachers and academic institutions are supported during this time and can continue to have access to a range of learning resources during the school closure period.” In a statement on their website, NT Live announced that “the National Theatre Collection, including 24 full filmed plays, will now be available to pupils and teachers at state schools and state-funded further education colleges.”

NT Live is not the only initiative that aims to make theatre freely, and digitally available during the Covid-19 Crisis. In terms of theatre now available for free, according to Chris Wiegand, “Hampstead theatre and the Guardian have teamed up to stream a series of acclaimed productions for free” available to stream on the Hampstead Theatre’s website, and Emma Rice’s adaptation of Wise Children is available on BBC iPlayer for three months “as part of the Culture in Quarantine programme.” Even though Shakespeare’s Globe has rentable recordings on its ‘Globe Player’ website, Wiegand reiterates that on the Globe’s YouTube channel, the theatre is broadcasting “a series of free streams, each available for a fortnight”. This is significant, as the costs of producing material for broadcast, securing rights to distribute it, and covering marketing and satellite broadcast fees are substantial and out of reach to all but a few international companies. This type of charitable response is not feasible for all theatre companies; some smaller, independently funded organisations are struggling to respond to the economic damage caused by coronavirus that threatens its future productions and staff. Despite this, some venues are committed to the financial safety of their artists. As well as furloughing the majority of its staff, the Cambridge Junction, an urban arts centre, is attempting to compensate artists who would have been performing: “we remain committed to supporting artists and as far as we can we will be paying fees to them for cancelled performances.”

It is inspiring that as a response to the virus, many big-brand theatres and organisations, like NT Live, have offered up their creative content freely (or at least at low costs). This generosity, often funded by philanthropy, not only ensures that theatre and the arts remain relevant in an era critically dependent on scientific and medical advances but that by using new technology, often represented as a dominant threat to the arts, the internet can become an instrument to allow everyone, regardless of financial status or previous knowledge of theatre, to experience high-quality drama risk-free, from the comfort of their homes. It is hard not to imagine the cultural benefit to us all if this access was the theatre’s usual role in our lives.

Image credit: Marc Brenner

Government pledges £20 million towards Oxford coronavirus vaccine

Florine Lips
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Government pledges £20 million towards Oxford coronavirus vaccine

Matt Hancock announced this afternoon during the government’s daily Coronavirus press conference that £20 million in funding will be allocated towards a vaccine research team in Oxford, led by Professor Sarah Gilbert.

Along with a team at Imperial College, Hancock described Oxford’s vaccine research as “promising”, announcing the government’s plan to “back them to the hilt and give them every resource that they need to get the best possible chance of success, as soon as possible.” The vaccine from the Oxford project will begin its human trial on Thursday, with Hancock adding that “in normal times, reaching this stage would take years.”

Hancock described the UK as leading the global effort to produce a vaccine, adding that “we’ve put more money than any other country into the global search for a vaccine.” In addition to the £20 million allocated towards Oxford’s research, the team at Imperial College will be granted £22.5 million to support their phase 2 clinical trials. Both teams were described as making “rapid progress”.

Although he reassured the public of the government’s commitment towards supporting the search for a vaccine, he warned that success is not a guaranteed outcome. He said: “Nothing about this process is certain. Vaccine development is a process of trial and error, and trial again. That’s the nature of how vaccines are developed. But I’ve told Sarah Gilbert and Robin Shattock, two of our most inspiring scientists, that we are going to back them to the hilt and give them every resource that they need to get the best possible chance of success. As soon as possible.”

The benefits of pioneering the production of a vaccine would be great, he declared: “the upside of being the first country in the world to develop a vaccine is so huge that I am throwing everything at it.” Hancock also announced that the UK will invest in manufacturing capability so that, if successful, the vaccine can be made widely available to the public.

‘The Yellow Wallpaper’: A study of depression during confinement

Alison Hall
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‘The Yellow Wallpaper’: A study of depression during confinement

TW: discussion of mental illness, suicide

“It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer.”

As the sun beats down on the outside world, millions of us are confined to the great indoors. We are in the midst of a pandemic and to go outside is to risk lives. Many of us have a mountain of vac work slowly gathering dust which we daren’t even think about as we wait for another email from the university about new arrangements for Trinity term, or whatever will be left of it. The ennui starts to set in as we’re bombarded with new phrases becoming standard – “social distancing”, “self isolation”, “flattening the curve”. Spending our days indoors with little to no face-to-face contact with others is, however, a sure-fire way to exacerbate symptoms of mental illness. Many of us have found ourselves slowly losing our grip on reality, fuelled by both the seemingly apocalyptic news coverage of the crisis and the measures which have been put in place by the government and which make the coronavirus outbreak feel just like a bad dream.

“I sometimes fancy that in my condition if I had less opposition and more society and stimulus – but John says the very worst thing I can do is to think about my condition, and I confess it always makes me feel bad.”

Charlotte Perkins Gilman gave birth to her daughter Katharine in 1885, and detailed her experience of what we now know to be postpartum depression in a number of her works, most notably the novella The Yellow Wallpaper. In so few pages, Gilman captures in harrowing detail the impact of the “rest cure” on the anonymous narrator’s psyche as she is made to stay in a single room, with a bed bolted to the floor and fixates on the sickly yellow, bizarrely patterned wallpaper, the only object of interest. This obsession with the wallpaper – brought about by her solitary confinement – and the female figure she believes is trapped within it, is what triggers the narrator’s descent into madness.

“Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am able – to dress and entertain, and order things.”

I hit rock bottom just over a year ago – my depression had become so bad that I’d spend most of the day sleeping, and would go for prolonged periods of time without eating actual meals, washing, or cleaning my room, much to the irritation of my scout. I would deal with this by cutting myself off from my friends – which, naturally, only made me feel worse. I did, and found that my experiences were anything but unique, that isolating oneself is hardly an unusual coping mechanism. I thought that a year on from hitting this low point, I’d be able to look back on it and be proud of how far I’d come, but now I feel like I’m back to square one. The only difference is that this time, I have no choice but to stay at home, or else I risk getting ill or transmitting the disease to those who are more vulnerable than me. Lockdown is not a misogynistic “cure” for the “hysteria” that women in the 19th century (such as Gilman herself) were supposedly afflicted by – COVID-19 is real, and deadly, and it is more important than ever that we make sacrifices to reduce pressure on the NHS and potentially save lives – so this is a sacrifice we absolutely must make.

“I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a little it would relieve the press of ideas and rest me. But I find I get pretty tired when I try.”

I’m sure we’ve all been periodically reminded that Shakespeare supposedly wrote King Lear while in quarantine, and that while the UK is on lockdown each of us simply must get to work on our own magnum opus. By contrast, as part of her “rest cure” treatment, Gilman was told to “never touch pen, brush or pencil as long as you live’. In her case, these limits on her creative expression only caused her condition to deteriorate. However, as I see more calls for coronavirus-inspired short stories, scripts and poetry, I find myself frustrated by the pressure on creatives to respond to the crisis by being productive. It seems rather tone-deaf to expect people to react to this pandemic by generating art rather than simply expressing fear, worry or grief as any human being would. In many cases, depression and productivity don’t exactly go hand in hand – so as a mentally ill writer, this is hardly the ideal situation in which I could write the next great British novel about my experiences of social distancing. 

“I cry at nothing, and I cry most of the time.”

I know I’m incredibly lucky that my family and I are not at an especially high risk of becoming seriously ill, and I’m sure that for many, being unable to see their friends or stuck in a creative rut is the least of their problems. However, we are too quick to overlook the impact of lockdown on mental health – since our vac has begun, a 19-year-old took her own life as she was “unable to cope with her world closing in”. In spite of all this, it is more important than ever to hold out hope – to remember that although we don’t know how long things will take to return to normal, this period of fear and uncertainty will pass. Now is the time to make sure to reach out to one another. So many of us are suffering in silence, missing our friends, family and partners more than ever as we have no idea when we’ll see each other again. Having taken part in countless Zoom or Houseparty calls and Netflix parties over the last few days, I feel reassured by the idea that friendships and relationships may come out of the lockdown period stronger than before.

“I’ve got out at last,” said I, “in spite of you and Jane. And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!”

The Future of Satire

Natasha Voase
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The Future of Satire

We’re currently living in a satire of Orwellian proportions; a rampaging demagogue in America has succeeded in convincing millions that measures put in place to protect them are in fact harming their lives, the UK health secretary seems to believe that a tin badge is a substitute for PPE and Big Brother is starting to watch our every move. It would appear that in these troubling times, a laugh is just what we need. However, though satire has always had the purpose of pushing boundaries and exposing the hypocrisies and fallacies of societies, its limits often expose the boundaries which “free speech” cannot cross. 

From Voltaire’s Candide which assaulted the unrelenting optimism of Leibniz to Orwell’s Animal Farm and Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal, which satirised the British government’s approach to the Irish potato famine, satire has had a role in exposing the weaknesses in our own thought processes and political policies. For example, A Modest Proposal imagines the Westminster government’s laissez-faire policy pushed to extremes to the point where the Irish were imagined to be eating their children in lieu of potatoes. By shocking the reader through its vibrant language and imagery, the article intended to mobilise the population to force the government to act. Though it didn’t succeed in this case, it did cement Swift’s role as the father of modern satire. 

Today, satire remains popular; how many people tune into Mock the Week and Have I Got News for You? The availability of Have I Got News For You demonstrates that satire is needed even in these serious times. Though some areas may be off-limits – the health of Boris Johnson wasn’t up for debate – others deserve to be mocked for their ridiculousness. For example, the irony of a Prime Minister whose government wanted to introduce a points-based system excluding some NHS workers being saved by two foreign nurses. Add Matt Hancock’s pride at his new NHS pin which he seems to view as being akin to a Batman badge that can magically protect the user in a way PPE can’t, and you have a minefield for satire just waiting to be exploited. However, though the scope for satire may seem limitless, satire does nonetheless have its boundaries. 

Satire can easily be misunderstood. Charlie Hebdo encountered a backlash in 2017 when it published comments on the irony of anti-gay rights activists from Texas believing that natural disasters are caused by God punishing a subversive society. The magazine was immediately attacked by people who seemed to believe that the satirical image portrayed real editorial opinion, demonstrating a lack of understanding about what satire is. By its nature, satire is about exaggeration and pointing out the ugliest parts of our society. If a satire makes you angry, it’s better to focus on why it makes you feel this way- is it because, perhaps, it hits too close to home?

Satire is designed to shock us from comfortable complacency into action. Therefore, it should elicit strong reactions. However, there are lines around which even satire should tread carefully, with the Charlie Hebdo attacks revealing that certain people, at least, felt that religion was one area which ought to be off-limits- I doubt Voltaire would agree. The beauty of satire is that, by its nature, it offends and so demonstrates the lines which free speech should be wary of crossing. However, next time we’re offended by a satire, we should remember the old adage attributed to Voltaire: “I may not agree with what you say but I’ll defend to the death your right to say it.”

The other BPL: Belarusian Premier League

Martin Yip
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The other BPL: Belarusian Premier League

Amidst the Coronavirus pandemic, major sports events the world have been delayed or cancelled, necessitating eager sports fans to divert their attention elsewhere. While replays of classic matches or eSports tournaments are interesting in their own right, there is something irreplaceable about live action sport. It was thus quite reasonable when viewers turned their attention to the Belarusian Premier League (BPL), possibly the only professional league still playing matches – and with live support.

The BPL was formed in 1992, and the first season featured clubs from the Higher League (formerly known as the Soviet Top League), the leagues below, as well as clubs from the Belarus SSR First League. Perhaps its best-known club is BATE Borisov, which won 13 consecutive league titles from 2006 to 2018. Dinamo Minsk is the other relatively famous club, with seven league titles and nine second-place finishes to their name. These are the only two Belarusian clubs to ever have reached the Europa League group stage, while BATE Borisov is the only Belarusian club to have played in the Champions League group stage.

Unlike many leagues in Europe, BPL seasons are completed within a single calendar year. This is good news for its (many newfound) followers, since it means the league has just begun, with the first matches having been played in mid-March. With Dynamo Brest winning the 2019 league title, their first ever, it is possible that there could be further disruptions to BATE Borisov’s domination of the league this season.

However, the novelty of the BPL cannot mask its lack of quality. In 2013, BATE Borisov beat Bayern Munich at home, making some headlines, but overall, Belarus remains a weak footballing nation. On the international level, the nation has never qualified for a World Cup or a European Championship, and its most (and arguably only) notable player remains Alexander Hleb, an Arsenal legend who had several spells with BATE Borisov across his long career.

The contrarian arrangements of the BPL are also due in no small part to the Belarusian response to the pandemic. The president, Alexander Lukashenko, who has continued to play ice hockey, even embracing other players on the rink, has downplayed the need for social distancing in a country which has recorded over 4000 confirmed cases of COVID-19. He even claimed that “no one in the country will die from coronavirus”, in direct conflict with official statistics.

Some in the BPL circles may hope that increased international attention, as an unexpected consequence of the pandemic, will improve the level of the league. That is a benevolent wish, but in the grand scheme of things, there are far more important concerns. Ultimately, the ‘other’ BPL is unlikely to do more than distract sports enthusiasts for a season or two.

Image credit: Homoatrox

The Real Cost of Eating Out

Lizzie Harvey
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The Real Cost of Eating Out

It’s a familiar feeling. You enter a restaurant, sit down, and by the time you open the menu and see the outrageous pricing, it’s too late for escape. “£15 for a pizza!” you exclaim. You try and do the maths – the ingredients can’t cost more than a few pounds and they can cater in bulk, so why is it so expensive? When we head out to eat, the prices can often seem inexplicably high. So, where does our money actually go? Are these businesses making a fortune selling reheated ready-meals, or are hidden costs the culprits for these inflated prices? The closure of around 750 pubs last year would suggest that the truth is closer to the latter.  

Before I started working in a café, I imagined there to be some kind of capitalist conspiracy for cafés and pubs to take as much of our hard-earned money as possible – I mean, £3 for a coffee must be a rip off, right? Needless to say, I didn’t understand the economy, but getting a job helped to change this. Run by a lovely University of Oxford graduate Claire Hawkins, and going by the name ‘Indigo,’ my workplace opened my eyes to the many unexpected financial pressures on small business.  

So, let’s break it down: a toasted ciabatta will set you back around £5, a couple of pounds less if you have it to take away. Already, £1 (20%) is taken as VAT. The ‘cost of sale’, i.e. the price of the ingredients, can vary between 90p-£1.40. Unlike supermarkets, Indigo does not mass-produce their food and uses higher quality, locally sourced bread and fillings, leading to a higher cost of sale (but tastier toasties!).  

The next biggest costs are the overheads: salaries, rent, bills and insurance add up to 12% of Indigo’s turnover, with staffing representing the largest cost overall. These vary greatly between businesses and can often be subject to big and sudden increases. Indigo faced a series of break-ins, resulting in the business insurance quadrupling to an annual cost of £4000. In a worst-case scenario, a business frequently vandalised or broken into can be blacklisted and unable to find insurance. Restaurants don’t just need rainy-day money but must also account for these sudden and uncontrollable events.

The unexpected costs continue. Any restaurant or café playing music must pay for ‘public performance licensing,’ based on the size of the seating area within earshot. For Indigo, a café with 18 seats in total, this works out to be £500 a year. Larger restaurants pay thousands just to legally play some background music. Similar costs include banking charges and losses due to power cuts, both of which sets Indigo back around £1000 and, in the case of the latter, causes a significant amount of food waste as the contents of fridges are ruined. Smaller costs, such as replacing stolen or broken crockery – yes, people really do steal dirty mugs and plates – repairing furniture and buying decorations add up too, and take a cut of that original £5 for a sandwich. All this leads to a perhaps surprisingly low profit for the restaurant, yet still higher prices for the consumer. Costs aside, we must also remember the huge amount of stress for the owners of restaurants and cafés who are responsible for both their own wellbeing and income as well as that of their staff.   

As with all aspects of economics, supply and demand invariably contributes to the differing prices of food and drink at restaurants and cafés across the country. You can expect to pay more in cities like London and Oxford where both the rent and the demand is higher. An afternoon tea at The Ritz will set you back at least £60, in part because it’s what people, especially tourists, are prepared to pay for such an experience. People are increasingly turning their backs on materialism in favour of these ‘experiences’ and this, in addition to the growing wealth of the middle class has led to the development of unique and expensive fine dining opportunities. Restaurants can also provide an easy way of trying foods from different cultures – you can hardly walk a square metre in London without coming across a specialty restaurant which is almost as good as grandma’s cooking.  

With all these costs to consider, both for the businesses and the consumer, why do people still choose to eat out and how are these businesses able to stay open?  We all know why: people love going out! From catching up with friends to family celebrations and romantic evenings, restaurants provide an ideal setting for these special moments – and artsy Instagram food photos – making people more willing to spend money on a meal. 

In spite of the frustrations of these seemingly unfair prices, when lockdown is lifted, I suspect that restaurants and pubs, along with all other social spaces, will be the first port of call for many of us. Perhaps the lesson learned throughout all of this is that the pleasure of gathering in our favourite pizzeria is priceless, or at least worth that £15.

Image credit

Food for Comfort

Bek Possener
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Food for Comfort

Age 11, my secret banking password was RoastBeef, so, yes, I would call myself a foodie. Age 21, I eat three square meals under lockdown, so I think I’m doing pretty well.

Eating for comfort is part of life. There are clear scientific links between food and mood – related to things like cortisol, serotonin and blood sugar – that I don’t fully understand. Terms like hangry, hangriest and hangrier are proper words, according to the OED. People, including myself, eat when they are stressed, when they are sad, or when they are just bored. I don’t know about you, but I am currently feeling these emotions, increased tenfold, all the time, every day.

So, do we turn to food to cope? In short, yes. And that’s totally fine and normal. Food is soothing. When I’m sick, I’ll have some chicken noodle soup (Jewish penicillin) and that will make me feel better. When I’m stressed, I’ll have some Chocolate Fingers and a chamomile tea to help me relax. When I’m feeling particularly low, I’ll eat ice cream and Doritos. And if that’s what I need, it’s okay.

In times of crisis, it is more important than ever to be kind to yourself. If you want to eat something, eat something. The world is falling apart, there are no rules – the limit does not exist! I am eating many, many Babybels and McVities Dark Chocolate Digestive Biscuits, but do I feel bad about it? No! I’m staying home! I’m in survival mode. If these are the resources I need to get through this crisis feeling somewhat okay, I’ll take them. Whether I physically need them is beside the point. It’s not just my body that’s going to get through this, it’s my brain as well, and I want to keep myself feeling as positive as possible. What’s important is that it’s not my only coping mechanism. I’m going on my daily walk around the garden, I’m watching some TV and I’m having my treats. 

Food is helping me structure my day. I wake up, have a leisurely breakfast of some bagels or porridge with a cup of tea, and then check the news and bother my family. When I am feeing a bit peckish I will have a small snack – a snackette, if you will – of whatever I can scrounge from the fridge, then a late lunch, followed by some afternoon delight (what I call my second snacking session) and then the main event, dinner. I fit in my digesting and other activities around these.

Some days during term, when my mood was very low, I would make a very simple soup and eat it. It was a double whammy – not only did I make something, I got to enjoy eating it! The very ritual of cooking can be soothing, as well as the process of eating. My brother made some Chicken Marbella for our Pesach meal and some Matzah, the ‘bread of affliction’, which I devoured. 

I am fortunate enough to live in a household where most days everyone can come together to eat dinner, an experience which, as it involves six loud and opinionated Jews, can often be loud and argumentative. Yet I am so grateful for this now, because eating together allows my family to connect and share their emotions and thoughts in a way that we otherwise wouldn’t at this time. 

I’ve been to the supermarket three times since the lockdown to do The Big Shop, and each time, I’ve made sure to get a special treat for everyone. My little sister, for example, is obsessed with cheesecake, so when choosing our pudding, I made sure to include a cheesecake just for her – despite the rest of us being ambivalent towards it. One of my brothers loves apples and smelly cheese, and so I bought both. My dad loves pickles, and you can bet I got him some Mrs Elswood Haimisha Cucumbers (Kosher for Passover). My mother makes sure to get ‘scooby snacks’ for everyone to keep us motivated, particularly for my brother, who is working as a healthcare assistant in our local hospital. 

Certainly, panic-buying food has been the coping mechanism of some, despite pleas from supermarkets that it is unnecessary. I must admit, my own mother, in a moment of weakness, bought a pack of 12 tins of chickpeas – in my family, that amounts to two tins each – and has yet to open one. At least if the lockdown continues beyond the next three weeks, rest assured we can make enough hummus to keep us going.

Image via Flickr

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